A Blur
by Crazy Youngster
Summary: Everything was a blur. All the people were running around to get ready that afternoon. Stacie was looking for her lace bra and Lily for her new Danish pocket knife (you don't yourself ask why anymore). Next thing you know, you're on the side of the stage and just about to perform.


The landing was a _blur_.

You have somehow managed to sleep almost the entire flight to Copenhagen in spite of being terrified of planes. You mentally give yourself a little pat on the back. There had not been any panic attacks, no hyperventilation, no puking and no embarrassing moments. You had just crashed once in your seat. Then again, maybe it had something to do with your insomnia. If whatever force out there has allowed you some rest— even if it was in the least probable place— you certainly won't complain about it. More than anything, you are glad as you haven't felt so energised in quite a while (although the plane could have totally blown into pieces during your long nap).

Who knew getting one's luggage could be such a struggle. A stranger accidentally grabbed Fat Amy's suitcase. To put it lightly, hell and dingoes ensued. The ride to the hotel was easy enough: God bless Ashley's amazing planning skills and Jessica's slight knowledge of Danish. Who knew those two had such hidden talents?

The first day was spent resting and taking the brunt of the jet lag.

The day was a _blur_.

Copenhagen was absolutely gorgeous. It surprised you how close everything was. If you were to measure it with your Barden University campus-walking scale, you'd say that five blocks in the European city was like walking from the Bella house to the nearest building. This means that the Bella's had the time to visit quite a bit before retiring to the hotel for their second night.

You feel exasperated when Fat Amy takes out a giant bottle of vodka from her suitcase. Jesus, was she even allowed to bring the damn thing in the plane? Was that even legal? However, you can't suppress a fond smile because that is totally her; she can be such a rebel.

After a few drinks, you feel a little giddy. Your cheeks are on fire and your mind is a bit hazy. You stumble to your best friend who has been there for you through thick and thin. Somehow, with your foggy mind, you finally admit to yourself that at some point during those four years together at Barden, you fell in love with her. You're just too drunk to deal with it at that night so you push aside that very important piece of information.

You both spend the night giggling and making stupid jokes about that time Bumper did a striptease for Fat Amy. Neither of you mention how traumatising the experience was and how you both felt like your eyes were bleeding after.

You're definitely drunk now. You know you're going to regret it in the morning but it will have been worth the headache.

The last rehearsal was a _blur_.

You know everything by heart. You've all rehearsed it so much that you're pretty sure you'll remember it until you die. Unfortunately, you still don't feel prepared in any way. Does anyone ever though?

Your performance is tomorrow night.

You're in your bed trying to sleep but you can't. It's like putting your head on the pillow turned on a mental switch to all of your preoccupations. You're thinking about how you'll go about life after college. You think about your performance tomorrow. You're not quite sure if you should be pep talking yourself to boost your confidence or if you should just be preparing yourself for the devastation of defeat. You're not stupid. You know that although the Bella's kick ass, DSM's skills are just astounding.

Then, the rest of the night is spent over thinking about the girl sleeping next to you: your best friend. You just don't know anything anymore. Are the feelings mutual? You can't really tell from physical contact because you've both become pretty touchy with each other since first year. It's just how your friendship is.

She's just so precious to you. She knows you in a way no one else does. You think that maybe, you've been falling for her since the very start. It's two in the morning and you know you need to go to sleep.

Everything was a _blur_.

All the people were running around to get ready that afternoon. Stacie was looking for her lace bra and Lily for her new Danish pocket knife (you don't ask yourself why anymore). Next thing you know, you're on the side of the stage and just about to perform.

Your heart is racing as fast as Barry Allen in The Flash. Are you on the verge of having a heart attack? Thinking about it, you feel like you could totally pull an Aubrey if your stress levels increase any further. Jesse isn't in the picture anymore so that was one thing that has been off your conscience for a few months. One less stressful thing which is probably why you are able to keep it together at the moment.

You aren't quite sure how you feel either. There is a mixture of extreme fear of failure but also the fiery determination to impress the Germans. You want to win. No, you need to win.

DSM is getting off stage on the opposite side and the announcer has just called the Bella's to the stage. You look back at all the girls and try your best to show some confidence. Then, you look at _her_ the girl next to you. She sends you a reassuring smile and just like magic, you feel a lot better. In a somewhat neat queue, you all walk on stage. This is it.

The performance was a _blur_.

The Bella's have won the Worlds in spite of having exceptionally talented opponents. They're going to be reinstated and you have never felt such a rush in your life. It is all so crazy.

You turn to the side to look at your best friend, eyes bright and shit-eating grin in place. You've worked so very hard—all of you— and it has paid off. It is so satisfying to see the enemy walk to the side and to hear the crowd chanting your name. You think that maybe that's how singers like Taylor Swift feel.

A beautiful trophy is thrust in your hands before Fat Amy rips it out from your grip and kisses it. You hear her yell something about crowd surfing but, thank God, Bumper shows up on the side of the stage just in time. Instead, the eccentric Australian rushes to her boyfriend.

You turn around to look at the Bella's. You are eyes are trying to meet certain pair of blue ones. However, everyone is looking at the approaching German team.

Of course they stand tall and graceful even in defeat. Maybe they really are perfect because they seem to take their loss pretty well.

All of you are confused when the blonde leader, Kommissar, opens her arms slightly with a smirk on her face. You're almost convinced that she's about to make fun of you. Rude sassy people... Ugh!

Then, the unthinkable happens.

A small _blur_ of brown hair runs into Kommissar's awaiting arms. Next thing you know, Beca Mitchell, the girl you love, is kissing you're enemy with great passion. DSM's leader brings her arms around your best friend and lifts her up. It's like they've been together for a while.

Then everything falls into place. It hits you hard because you realise they probably have been dating for a few months. All those times Beca would be out without anyone knowing where she was; her mysterious spring break getaway; all the phone calls...

You really should have seen all the signs. In that moment, you don't know who you hate the most: Kommissar for getting the girl, Beca for not choosing nor telling you, or yourself for not picking up on all the cues.

You just walk away.

Your vision is a _blur_.


End file.
